Of bitter sorrow, 'neath thy iron reign,
And many a one, whose harder fate has given,
Some early woes, by thee to madness driven,
Sees the sad vision of some bygone day,
And thinks on what he hath seen with dismay:
So some lone murderer, wanders o'er the world
By thy dread arm to desperation hurl'd;
In vain he prays, or bends the lowly knee,
With fiendlike power, thou dragg'st him back with thee,
Point'st to some scene of early guilt and woe,
Opening the source from whence his sorrows flow.
As round the bark which feels the tempest's shock,
The lightning plays, and shows the fatal rock,
So memory brings our sorrows all to light
With vivid truth presents them to the sight;
Pursues the wretch who else some joy might find,
To fix her seat of empire in his mind.
As desert lakes in sad illusion fly,
Before the weary traveller's cheated eye
So memory shows, those hopes we still would cherish.
Pleased but to fade, allured us but to perish.

M.B.S.

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.